


Advantages

by angstilicious



Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, F/M, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:38:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstilicious/pseuds/angstilicious
Summary: The saying goes, "You never know what you have until it's lost."





	Advantages

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short one that stumbled into my head at 1 am. Hope you all enjoy!

We take advantage of everything that we touch. The air. Water. Loved ones. Yeah… we always take advantage of our loved ones.

They’re the ones who are there for us through thick and thin. They smile with you when you’re having a picnic in the middle of summer and snuggle with you on the couch by the fireplace in the cold nights of winter. Their laugh makes your eyes crinkle up and their tears coil your stomach into knots. 

We take advantage of the sunny days and the cold nights, the laughs and the tears. We take and take until there’s nothing left of the person they used to be. 

Why do people do that? 

She was… everything. She was perfect. 

Her laugh lit up any room, her smile, brighter than the sun. Her tears couldn’t betray her, even when her tears were the last thing I see.

Then the door slammed in my face and the silence filled our tiny apartment. I could hear the crickets outside, letting me know night has fallen. I could hear our old refrigerator running and the A/C humming. I could hear boards creaking all around me, while the other tenants went about their lives even as mine ended. 

She used to fill our home with noise. She always played music on her old record player, dancing and swaying around the space without a care in the world. I teased her about updating her constantly about that damn player, but she insisted old was in right now and would comment on my “actual” age.

The record player now sat in the corner of our living room, mocking me with its existence. She couldn’t exactly pick it up and take it with her. 

Her storm through the house was evident everywhere. Clothes strung throughout the place, toiletries on the chair. Her chair. The chair she would curl up to drink tea and relax on one of their lazy days. 

I touched that chair. I touched those clothes and the record player and the light switch. I touched the air both of us have inhaled and the floor beneath my feet. 

I touched her. I’ve held her in my arms and caressed her face. I’ve swung her in my arms and lifted her to the sky. Mentally, I’ve fought off the nightmares that plagued her during sleepless nights and wiped away her tears. I’ve raised her already high spirits when I chose to snuggle with her on the floor because for some reason, she likes that better than the couch. 

I should’ve never touched her. I didn’t deserve her, still don’t. The pain I have inflicted on her surpasses any nightmare her brain could possibly conceive. I put my hands on her in a way a man should never be allowed. I broke her, just as she put herself back together again. 

I should have never touched her. I should have never even looked in her direction.

I took advantage of her… and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.


End file.
